The apples don’t fall far from the tree

Sometimes it’s funny how my kids resemble their sainted mother. Last night, as I tucked my daughter in, I found a spoon on her bed. We have a pretty strict no eating upstairs rule, so I asked her why it was there. “I don’t know,” she lied merrily.

“Of course you do,” I said.

“I guess someone broke in and forced me to eat a spoonful of Nutella,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” I answered. “You should’ve said so. That happens to me all the time.”

Then recently, I asked Dearest Son what he wanted to be when he grew up. “A nerd person,” he said.